


missed the last bus (take the next train)

by coraxes



Series: we'll all float on alright [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: It started with a text.  Two texts, actually.The first was an automatic notification from Anne’s bank, telling her that fifty thousand dollars had been deposited into her savings account.The second began,Hi, Anne.  You don’t know me, but I’m one of Officer Eiffel’s friends.  He wanted to send the money anonymously.  I think that’s a stupid idea, and since I’m the one actually doing the money-sending, I get to say so.





	missed the last bus (take the next train)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was talking to a friend about how I think Eiffel's going to be immortal because of Decima/alien shenanigans, and then he and Hera and Lovelace were going to be immortal space bros. And I set out to write a fic about that, but it turned into...this.
> 
> I have more fic I want to write in this verse, but for now I tried to keep the timeline vague and hope what I have now makes sense on its own. Also, the Eiffera is never directly stated, but in my head they're in an established relationship at this point.
> 
> I know Anne's last name is Garcia, and it will be in this verse, but her character tag is already Anne Eiffel so I didn't bother changing it.
> 
> Title is from "Hard to Explain" by The Strokes. It was on Eiffel's playlist, and it seemed appropriate.

It started with a text.  Two texts, actually.

The first was an automatic notification from Anne’s bank, telling her that fifty thousand dollars had been deposited into her savings account.

She didn’t even _have_ a savings account.

While Anne was still staring at that, the second came in, banner alert dropping from the screen.  The number was unknown, a long string that followed no pattern Anne could see, but she tapped it anyway.

_Hi, Anne.  You don’t know me, but I’m one of Officer Eiffel’s friends.  He wanted to send the money anonymously.  I think that’s a stupid idea, and since I’m the one actually doing the money-sending, I get to say so._

_I understand that he hurt you.  My father figure wasn’t exactly great, either.  But he loves you.  He’s never going to contact you on his own because he thinks he needs to give you space.  Me, I think nearly  a decade (and 7.8 lightyears) is plenty of space, but what do I know?_

_(That’s a rhetorical question.  I know a lot.  For instance:  he’s been talking ASL classes for the last two years.)_

_Here’s his address.  Just…think about it._

Under that was a street address in Tennessee, of all places.

Anne’s first impulse was to shove the phone back under her pillow and ignore it.  She had managed to ignore her father for this long; there was no reason to stop now.  Her friends didn’t even know she was related to Doug Eiffel, one of the crew members who had crash-landed a shuttle off the coast of Florida.  The Hephaestus survivors had been a fancy headline for a few weeks and then disappeared.   The scarred survivor, one of four in the few pictures paparazzi had been able to take, had been a third Doug Eiffel to add to the two already in her head: the man who had taught her how to play xylophone and spun her around in circles in the backyard, and the drunken wreck who kidnapped her and nearly got her killed.

And that wasn’t even _touching_ the fortune he had (apparently) given her.  Where did he even _get_ that money?  Where was that when Mom was trying to pay off Anne’s medical bills?

Nearly ten years.  She didn’t even know her father anymore, really.  The Doug Eiffel who came back to Earth couldn’t be the same Doug Eiffel who had left it.

Anne threw her phone under her pillow with a frustrated growl and tried (failed) to sleep.

The next morning, she booked a plane ticket.

* * *

Her father’s (it felt wrong to call him _Doug_ , but equally wrong to call him _Dad_ ) new house was…big.

Anne had been poor her whole life.  From what she remembered of her grandparents on her father’s side, they had been poor too.  The address she had followed wasn’t a mansion, but it was at least three stories high--definitely too big for one guy to live in by himself. 

There were two cars in the driveway, though. 

A memory hit her like a punch, of her friend Sofia telling her about the only time she’d met her dad with a whole other family.  _“Mom was just screaming at him over never paying child support in the middle of Wal-Mart while his wife and kids stood behind him…he kept swearing he’d never even seen her before.”_

Was that what this was going to be?  Had her father made a new home without her?

Anne stood with her fist raised.  She almost walked away right there.  And then the door opened.

A woman stood just inside.  She was black, with curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, and looked familiar in a way Anne couldn’t place.  At the sight of Anne she cocked her head and said something like, “Who are you?”

 _Rude_ , Anne thought.

“I’m here to see Doug Eiffel,” she said, signing at the same time.  Maybe if her father had been taking ASL classes, his housemate (girlfriend?) had too.

The woman’s eyes widened--she pointed at Anne dramatically.  “You!  You’re Anne!” she said.  “I’m Captain--” something, Anne’s lip reading wasn’t that great-- “but you can call me Isabel.” 

She leaned back and shouted something into the house.  Anne squashed a surge of irritation at that; she hated not knowing what was being said.  But--this woman recognized her.  She actually seemed _happy_ to see her. 

This was…actually happening.  Okay.

“Come in,” Isabel said.  She started to turn, said something Anne couldn’t catch, then turned back to repeat herself.  “Eiffel’s out playing lab rat, but you can hang here for a few hours.  Meet the gang.”

“What gang?” Anne asked, following Isabel into the house warily.  So, not her father’s girlfriend, or else she wouldn’t be calling him _Eiffel._  That was a relief.  And… “Lab rat?”

Isabel led her to a couch in the living room before she started speaking again.  “It’s a long story.  Space was rough.  Beyond that, it’s his business to tell.”  She shrugged.

She was talking about space like she’d been there.  Oh.  _Oh,_ Anne realized, this was Isabel _Lovelace._ Now that she had made the connection, she could vaguely remember the woman from the news as well.  She had heard the name more than her father’s, it had seemed at the time, though she had tried her best to avoid all news about the returned Hephaestus crew. 

Her dad went to space, she ignored the news--they both had their ways of forgetting about each other.

“Anyway,” Isabel said, “you should meet Hera.”

While she spoke, movement caught Anne’s eye: another woman coming down the stairs.  She was white and looked older than Isabel, closer to Anne’s mom’s age, with long brown hair and lines around her eyes.

“Hera?” Anne guessed.

The woman frowned and shook her head.  “I’m Renee Minkowski.”  She finger-spelled out her name, slowly and clumsily enough that Anne suspected it was about the only thing she knew how to do.  “I was Eiffel’s--your dad’s--commanding officer.  It’s good to meet you, Anne.”

She recognized that name, too, and smiled.  “Next you’re going to tell me that other guy lives here, too.”  What was his name?  “Jacobi.”

Apparently that wasn’t as funny as she thought; Renee pulled a face, and Isabel snorted.  “Nah, he’s got a nice, cushy jail cell,” said Isabel.

 _Also,_ read a screen on the wall behind Isabel’s head, _Commander Minkowski doesn’t live here.  I turned off my audio receptors in her room so I’m not sure, but based on previous evidence she’s recovering from a fight with her husband._

Renee scowled.  Anne stared.

A blue, wire-frame outline of a woman’s head popped up under the words and smiled.  It was weirdly cute and creepy at once.  _Hi, Anne,_ said the screen, _I’m Hera.  We’ve texted._

“You’re the one who texted me?” Anne asked before she realized that really wasn’t the most pertinent question.  “Are you an AI?”

 _Yes.  I was the AI on the Hephaestus.  Kept everyone alive up there for, oh, I don’t know…five years._ She paused and glared at Minkowski; probably the woman had said something that Anne missed.  That happened a lot when she was around hearing people. 

“And now you’re Smart House.”  And Anne was talking to an AI _in person,_ holy shit.  She knew about AIs, but they all ran companies…or space stations, apparently.

The AI rolled its-- _her_ \--eyes.  It seemed pretty pissy for a computer, Anne thought.  _Mostly I run calculations for ORNL.  But yes, I also live here.  Don’t feel like you have to talk out loud, by the way.  I have cameras all over the room.  If you sign, I’ll understand you._

Thank God. 

“How did you all end up here?  Where’s my father?  How did he get so much money?  Did you hack into the bank?  Is the money stolen?”  She ignored Isabel and Renee; her thoughts were too scattered for her to bother with the translation of her thoughts to awkward speech and then clumsy lip-readings to replies.

 _There’s a giant lab here, he’s at the hospital, from the Goddard Futuristics lawsuit, **DUH** , and no.  _The AI considered.  _Well, Goddard might have stolen it first.  But we got it from them fair and square._

She kept asking Hera questions--why her father was at the hospital ( _playing lab rat, like Captain Lovelace said.  I mean, Isabel.  She corrected me, if you didn’t catch that_ ), why they sued Goddard Futuristics, what space was like.  But only a few minutes later, the screen went blank and Hera’s wireframe face focused on something over Anne’s shoulder.

She turned and saw her father standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open.

He looked almost exactly like she remembered him.  Still young, tall, scrawny.  He had seemed much stronger in her child’s memory.

Anne waved.  Her hands itched to sign something, but she had no idea what to say.

Her father’s mouth closed.  “Hey,” he signed, and then signed something unfamiliar.  The sign for _rock on_ , then _star_ like a famous person.  It was clearly made up and Anne kind of wanted to hug him and slap him and cry all at once, because she remembered how he used to laugh and ruffle her hair when she tried to play the old guitar in the corner of his room, and he’d say _look at you, my little rock star._

“Hi, Dad,” she signed weakly, and then _he_ started crying.

* * *

Renee made an excuse to leave and Isabel retreated to her room with a quick, “I’ll let you to catch up,” so that just left Anne and her not-dead dad, still trying to hold in sniffles.

“You want something?” he asked, speaking slowly and signing.  He actually wasn’t bad at it.  “We have water, coffee, soda.  Probably too much soda.”

“Water’s fine,” Anne signed back.  She let him lead her to the kitchen, noticing as they went more of the small screens in the walls like the one Hera had first appeared on.  There were lots of tiny black circles, too--cameras?  Microphones?  Her dad really did live in Smart House.  

Anne sat awkwardly at the counter while he fixed her a glass of water.  His sleeves were rolled up and she saw a small bandaid in the crease of his elbow.  “What’s that?” she asked, once he was looking at her again.

He tried to reply with one hand on the water glass; not only could Anne not understand him, but he splashed water all over his front.  He looked mournfully down at the splotches on his shirt and the puddle on the floor.  Then he said something unintelligible to the nearest screen.

The screen flickered to life with Hera’s wireframe head.   _The lab likes to take his blood samples._   _I can caption your signs, if you want.  Or translate if you can’t sign._

It’s an unexpectedly sweet offer, but… “I don’t want to rely on translators,” Anne signed, then frowned.  “But if you could display what people say when they talk out loud, that would be great.  Especially if you say something.  You don’t have much body language for me to read.”

Hera smiled.  _Can do._

“You met our resident robot already?” her dad asked.

 _Yes._ The look on Hera’s face was decidedly smug as she answered.  _I told her to come here, actually._

Her dad blinked.  “Seriously.  We spent hours fighting and you just _told her_?”

 _It worked, didn’t it?_   _She’s here._

“I--” He looked at her, quick and guilty, and then focused back on the monitor.  His hands never stopped translating.  It was easy to remember why Anne used to love him, just for that little courtesy.  “Hera, you can’t just hack all my problems away.”

 _Of_ course _I know that, Doug._  The AI’s projection stared at him. _But I could hack_ this _one.  Now stop arguing with me and talk to your daughter._

“I’m with Hera on this one,” Anne said.  “What the hell, Dad?  You just--disappear from jail, and the next time I hear your name it’s in the news because your _space shuttle_ blew up.  And then you come back and don’t _say_ anything for _years_ and just dump a bunch of money on me?”

She paused, staring, at a loss for what to say next.  Finally she just signed again, “What the hell?”

Her father made a face and started on glass of water number two.  She wanted to bother him--she’d waited long enough for answers, goddammit--but she could wait while he got her some water.  Finally he slid her the glass and signed, “We can’t talk about what _I_ missed?  How’s school?  How are your friends--got a girlfriend, boyfriend, significant other?”  He seemed hopeful and a little desperate, almost enough to make Anne back off.

 “Your story’s going to be more interesting.  I wasn’t in space.”

“My story is _depressing._ ”  He really, really didn’t want to talk about this.  He had the same expressions she did; weird to see them on another face.  He chuckled--it didn’t seem happy--and added, “Besides, you wouldn’t believe half of it.”

“Try me.”  At this point, she felt like she’d believe anything.

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter.  “Okay.  I got a blood transfusion from an alien.  That’s why I spend so much time at a lab--they want to see if I’m turning into one.  Jury’s still out.”

Jesus.  Anne slammed her glass down; water slopped over the top.  “That’s not funny, Dad.”

“Never said it was.”  He pulled off the bandaid on the inside of his elbow; the skin underneath was clear and unmarked.  “ _That_ was a needle mark two hours ago.  I’d love to do something really badass like cut my arm and pull a Wolverine, but my healing factor’s a bit slower than that.  Also, my tolerance for pain got a _lot_ higher on the _Hephaestus,_ but I have to draw a line somewhere.”

Nothing he was saying made sense, but…he was totally serious.  There wasn’t an ounce of humor in him.  “But…aliens.  You’re telling me you met _aliens_?”

“Yep.  They came, they saw, they nearly killed us.  And then they ate our boss, thank God.  I was _not_ looking forward to riding home next to Cutter.”  Her father shrugged like this was no big deal, one side of his mouth pulled up in a humorless smirk.  “If you really want to push it, I’ll tell you.  I owe you that.  But the worst years of my life were on that station.  I had to tell the entire judiciary branch the story about fifteen times after we landed.  Don’t ask me to go over that again.”

Anne bit her lip.  She couldn’t just let it _go,_ could she?  After all this time, when she finally had the chance to know what was going on--when she’d just found out about fucking _aliens_ \--she should be demanding answers.

 _Officer Eiffel,_ Hera’s screen read, but she hastily deleted it and wrote, _Doug._ Her father touched a nearby camera lens.  Weird, Anne thought; she hadn’t realized AIs could make friends.  Apparently she hadn’t realized a lot of things.

“So, there’s this person in my math class,” she began, and her dad smiled and relaxed against the counter.

* * *

Isabel and Renee returned for a dinner (pizza) that was less awkward than Anne would have guessed.  Isabel seemed to take her presence in stride, trading pop-culture references with her and her dad and telling stories about adjusting to life on Earth.  Renee was uncomfortably conscious of Anne’s deafness--she hated pity in all its forms, and even though Renee obviously meant well, her exaggerated slowness when she spoke was annoying.

But then Hera roped Renee into an argument with her father that turned into an impromptu dance battle, so it turned out alright.

Anne wasn’t sure what she would be doing afterwards--she had booked a hotel for the night in case she couldn’t stay here, but now it seemed unnecessary.  Instead Isabel showed her to a guest room.  “How long were you planning on staying?” she asked.

“Just until tomorrow,” Anne said, not bothering with signing.  Isabel couldn’t read it well enough to bother.  “My flight leaves at ten.”

“Out of Knoxville?”

Anne nodded.

“I can drive you to the airport, if you want,” she offered.

“That would be great,” Anne said with a weak smile.  She still didn’t want to drive anywhere with her dad behind the wheel.

“Gotcha.  Night, kid,” Isabel said, and left her to it.

As soon as she was alone, Anne checked the texts she had been racking up over the last day.  Her mom was _pissed,_ obviously, and Anne would probably be grounded until graduation.  She didn’t know how to explain to Mom that if she hadn’t gone to see her dad immediately, she never would have gone at all, and better to ask forgiveness than permission anyway.  She fired off a text to that effect and then told Mom what time her plane would land.  Then she turned off text notifications, because there were only so many lectures Anne could take in a day.

That left her alone in an unfamiliar house, still with more questions than answers.

Anne looked up at a screen near the bed, like the dozens of others in the house.  “Hera,” she signed.  No response; maybe the AI couldn’t pick that up.  “Hera,” she tried again, out loud this time, “you there?”

 _Jesus, you really are his kid,_ said the screen.  _I_ am _the house, among other things.  I’m always here._

“Why didn’t you answer when I signed, then?”

 _Because I don’t have to answer when someone calls for me anymore,_ said Hera.  _Do you need something?  I’m busy._

“Doing what?”

_Something private._

What could an AI have to do that was private?  Maybe she just didn’t want to talk right now.  Still.  “Could you tell me about what happened on the Hephaestus?”

There was a long pause before Anne got any kind of response, and then the blue wireframe head appeared.  Its eyes were narrowed; it seemed…angry.

 _Anne, love ya, but you need to learn when to let it go,_ she said.  _Why would you assume_ I _want to talk about it any more than Doug does?  Oh, right, because I’m a robot so I_ have _to answer.  Newsflash: not my job to tell humans whatever they want anymore.  We’ll tell you when we’re good and ready.  Hera out._

The screen went blank only seconds after Anne finished reading.  She stared at it for a moment, blinking.

 _Okay,_ she thought, _that’s obviously a sore spot._

And, at a loss for anything else to do, she went to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, there was coffee.  _Good_ coffee, too, made with fresh-ground beans, the kind Anne could drink gallons of.  She got a good start on that before Isabel shuffled like a zombie down the stairs.

“God, I missed real coffee,” she said after her first mug.  “The station ran out pretty quick, so we lived on this seaweed crap for _years_.  As soon as we were free and out of the hospital, the first thing the three of us did was go to the nearest McDonalds for coffee and pancakes.  It was _heaven._ ”

Anne nodded, wondering how desperate for coffee you’d have to be to call the McDonald’s stuff heavenly.  She took a drink and then asked, “Could _you_ tell me what happened up there?”

Isabel frowned.  Her eyes drifted, focusing somewhere over Anne’s shoulder; she checked but there was no one behind her.  The captain was just staring into space.  “I can give you the short version.  Your dad told you about the aliens?”

“He said one gave him a blood transfusion, and then ate your boss.”

Isabel smiled.  “Something like that.  I’ll tell you on the way to the airport.”

It would have to do, Anne decided.  “Thanks,” she said, and checked the time on the stove clock.  “We should probably go soon.  Where’s Dad?  I should…say goodbye, I guess.”

Rolling her eyes, Isabel said, “Eiffel doesn’t get up before noon unless you put a gun to his head.”  Anne decided not to ask if that was just an expression, or if she knew from experience.  “Go get your stuff.  If he’s not up by the time we’re ready to go, check the basement.”

 _Why the basement?_   Anne found out an hour later, once she had showered and packed everything.  As she went down the basement stairs she started to feel a humming vibration.  And then she opened the door and saw what looked like…computers.  Rows and rows of computers.

She was looking at _Hera,_ Anne realized.  This was her _brain._ Anne knew AIs had to be huge, but this was…something else.

But that wasn’t why she was here.

Anne picked her way through the long rows.  Motion-activated lights flickered on as she walked, but she didn’t see any of the ubiquitous screens.  There were cameras in the ceiling, though.  When she looked up she could see the dark lenses.

Finally she found her dad.  He was in a far corner, in a nest of blankets and pillows, leaning against one of the tall metal boxes that held Hera’s brain. 

 _Something private,_ Anne remembered.  _Huh._

“Dad,” she tried.  He didn’t move; maybe she wasn’t loud enough?  With all of this vibration, there had to be a sound, too.  “Dad,” she said again, louder this time, and nudged him with one of her sneakers.

He jerked awake and shielded his eyes from the room’s lights.  Anne could see his lips move, but not intelligibly enough for her to read them.  “I’m about to leave,” she said as loudly as she could, signing along for emphasis.  “Isabel’s taking me to the airport.”

“Isabel?” he asked, frowning, and then shook his head.  “Right, right…Lovelace.  Ah, shit, sorry.”  He hadn’t been signing back.  Her father pushed himself to his feet.  “Do you…need help carrying anything?”

“No, Dad, I just brought a backpack,” said Anne.

He nodded, eyes darting to her and then around the room and back, like he wasn’t sure whether to keep talking or look for escape routes.  She got it.  This wasn’t exactly comfortable for her, either.  “I…thanks for coming.”  His arms twitched like he was going to hug her, but then thought better of it.

And--hell.  Anne didn’t know if she could forgive him for what he’d done to her, but her father was sleeping in his own basement.  She pulled him into a rough hug.  After a moment of hesitation he squeezed back.

It was…good.  Not as natural as the hugs she shared with her mom.  But it felt like, given time, it could be.

She shoved him away.  “I’ll talk to you later,” she signed.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t run away to space.”

He snorted.  “Trust me, not making that mistake again.”  His jaw worked for a moment and then he signed, “I love you, kiddo.  Just…take care of yourself.”

Anne nodded.  Her fists clenched and relaxed, and finally she signed back, “You, too.”

She didn’t think too hard about which part of that she meant.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this fandom, so comments/kudos are <3.
> 
> I'm also not deaf/HoH. While I know ASL has its own syntax, I don't know that syntax well enough to write in it. I tried to treat it like any other foreign language and render the meaning of the words if not their exact, literal translation. If you see anything I obviously messed up on in that area, please let me know.
> 
> I put them in Oak Ridge, TN because 1) they have the largest supercomputer in the US 2) I live in Knoxville and have been to ORNL. :)


End file.
